


betty, it’s legitimately cold outside

by stonerbughead



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bughead Secret Santa, F/M, Love Confessions, Mild Smut, Movie Night, Mutual Pining, Snowed In, post-grad AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerbughead/pseuds/stonerbughead
Summary: Every December 23rd since they became friends, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, and Archie have spent this night together watching Christmas movies. What happens when Archie and Veronica don’t show up for movie night, leaving Betty and Jughead snowed in with a lot of snacks and unconfessed feelings?a bughead secret santa gift for @bugsbetty





	betty, it’s legitimately cold outside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bugsbetty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugsbetty/gifts).



> dear @bugsbetty, 
> 
> Happy Holidays, love! 
> 
> So, to explain my gift: I want to be real and say that I’m usually not a huge fan of “baby, it’s cold outside” but the way you described your prompt idea inspired me to write you what I hope is a perfect version for Bughead. I hope you enjoy these two nervous beans stuck inside trying to work up the courage to finally confess their feelings to each other. And all the best wishes for a happy holiday and a wonderful new year!
> 
> Love, your Bughead Secret Santa  
> @stonerbughead

It’s the night of December 23rd. Christmas Eve Eve, as Archie always calls it, no matter how many times Jughead objects. Ever since Archie, Jughead, Veronica, and Betty have all been friends, they’ve spent this night together, watching a marathon of Christmas movies and digging into copious amounts of food. The tradition is always followed by a Christmas Eve breakfast the next morning at Pop’s, where they exchange gifts before leaving for various holiday obligations with their families. 

This year is no different. Betty had arrived first at Jughead’s apartment, a full grocery bag in hand. She’s standing at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up on one of her trademark ugly Christmas sweaters—the one with a cat wearing a Santa hat—as she retrieves items from the brown paper bag and sorts them methodically into piles. 

Jughead leans against the counter, watching her with a little smirk. “You really pulled out all the stops, huh, Betts? You didn’t have to bring so much.”

Betty looks up from where she’s placing garlic powder next to the grated parmesan she’d already pulled out to season the popcorn. She takes Jughead in, wearing a blue flannel and a gray S t-shirt, his arms folded across his chest. _Not wearing Christmas colors, typical,_ she thinks to herself. “It’s tradition, Jug,” she says, a hint of a smile creeping up on her face. 

She digs her hand back into her grocery bag, pulling out marshmallows for the hot chocolate. “Besides,” she adds. “I think we’ve been friends long enough now that I know how much sustenance you need for a full movie night.”

That’s the thing about friends you meet in college. In reality, she’d only known Jughead and Archie for roughly two years and Veronica for four, but it felt like she knew them better than anyone. She knew what to make for breakfast when everyone was hungover and she knew that Veronica rolled the best joint and that Jughead had a Spotify playlist ready for almost any occasion. She knew what Archie looked like with his head suspended above a toilet and Veronica’s soothing voice cooing “everything will be alright, Archiekins” in his ear. Usually in such scenarios, Betty was standing just on the edge of the chaos, a smile turned toward her male counterpart, Jughead, as they both waited to be of assistance to their friends.

For years, they’d danced around each other and their best friends who happened to be in love. Sure, Archie and Veronica’s connection had brought the four of them together, but Betty and Jughead’s shared interests in writing, mysteries, and exploring the seedier corners of the city they called home had solidified their friendship with each other over the semesters since.

2018 had been a year of much change for all of them. They’d graduated in May, arms looped around each other as they posed for photos outside the auditorium in caps and gowns. Betty had looked nervously at Jughead, thinking about the New Years resolution she’d made that January, watching Jughead from across the room at Veronica’s infamous New Years Eve party. _This year is the year I tell Jughead how I really feel._

Standing in the kitchen of Jughead’s post-grad apartment seven months later, Betty blushes. The clock is ticking ever closer to the day she’d made that promise to herself nearly a year earlier, and she has nothing to show for it. Time and time again, she’d chickened out. 

She glances over at Jughead, who has crossed the room and is now crouched near the TV thumbing through his DVDs for movie night options. _Perhaps I can get him alone tonight and work up the courage…_ Then, another voice, chiming in to remind Betty: _but you’re alone now…_

Betty shakes the thought from her head and surveys the kitchen island, now completely covered in ingredients. She has to toss the chocolate chip cookies in the oven, season the popcorn, and make some cheese dip to put out with the chips. Not to mention make the hot chocolate she’d brought, complete with mini marshmallows. (Archie had complained incessantly the year before when she’d forgotten them.)

Jughead places a bunch of movie contenders on the coffee table and rejoins Betty just as she’s tuning their kitchen radio to a Christmas station. “Jingle Bell Rock” fills the room and Jughead groans loudly. “Do we really have to listen to Christmas music?”

Betty looks like she’s about to speak, a smirk covering her face. “And don’t tell me it’s tradition again, Betty,” Jughead adds.

Betty shakes her head, laughing, as she grabs Jughead’s only saucepan from the cabinet for the cheese dip. “Never change, Grinch. I mean, Jughead.”

“But what is the point of these songs? They’re only relevant for what, thirty days of the year?” Jughead pauses to take a breath, and Betty can tell he’s about to launch into one of his patented anti-corporate-Christmas rants.

“The point is that I brought a bunch of yummy food and I want to listen to seasonal music while I prepare it for my friends,” Betty singsongs in her eerie Cooper family voice.

Jughead shudders. “That’s like a WASP superpower, it’s scary.”

“Precisely,” Betty says, upping it to a Stepford-Wives-level robot voice, and they both laugh heartily. 

“The Christmas music can stay,” Jughead concedes. “Just no more Stepford Wife voice.”

“Deal,” Betty says, laughing, as she continues preparing the food. 

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside” comes on next, and Betty grimaces as she stirs her dip. Jughead gives her a challenging look, knowing Betty’s feminist rant on this song just as well as she knows his anti-corporate Christmas stance. “Should I turn off the music, Betts?” he teases, his lips quirking into a smile.

Betty shakes her head. “We can sit through the more antiquated tunes as long as we get Mariah Carey out of the deal,” she says, holding her own. 

Jughead laughs before taking a look out the kitchen window. The snow has really picked up since he opened the door to let Betty in. “Creepy lines about things dropped in drinks aside, the song isn’t such a boring story,” Jughead says, thinking aloud as he watches the snow come down. 

Betty is simmering the dip on the stove now and starting on the popcorn. She considers Jughead’s statement for a moment. “You’re right,” she says thoughtfully. “Two people stuck inside in the snow. Forced to confront feelings for each other.” A hint of a blush tints her cheeks and she’s grateful Jughead is still looking out the window. She shoves the popcorn bag in the microwave to distract herself.

Betty’s words make Jughead freeze where he still stands next to the window, a blush creeping up his neck. He turns around to find Betty bustling around the kitchen. “Not a boring story at all,” he says, finally meeting Betty’s eyes.

\---

As the snow continues to fall outside, Jughead helps Betty pour chips and popcorn and dips into containers and set them out.

“Now, this, Betty,” he says over the sound of tortilla chips hitting the metal bowl. “I can help with.”

Betty laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, following behind him to place snacks across the coffee table.

Jughead surveys their handiwork and the empty kitchen island. He holds up a hand to high-five Betty and she grins as they slap hands heartily. “Good work, Cooper,” he says.

“Thanks for being my...sort-of sous-chef,” Betty says, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh, come on. It’s Christmas.”

“Fine,” Betty concedes. “All the thanks to my sous-chef.”

Jughead mock-bows as Betty giggles. They both look again at the finished snacks waiting for them on the table and Betty begins rifling through the DVDs Jughead had pulled out, teasing him about his choices.

“So,” Jughead says at a lull in conversation. “Not to be crass but, where in the ever-loving fuck are our dear friends Archie and Veronica?”

Betty rolls her eyes. “Probably on round three of their pre-Christmas sex marathon,” she suggests to Jughead’s laughter.

“Or Archie forgot to get his mom a present again and they’re fighting about what to buy for Mary at the mall,” Jughead counters.

“Always possible that Archie messed up an elaborate Christmas display and Veronica is buying off a store manager,” Betty adds, and they both snicker.

“Okay, now we’re just being mean to our friends, aren’t we?” Jughead asks, settling himself on the couch.

Betty joins him, gulping slightly as she dares to sit a little closer to Jughead than she usually does. “Is it mean if these are all real things we know have happened to our dear friends?”

Jughead laughs. “True. Well, I know. Let’s start without them.” He picks _A Christmas Story_ up off the coffee table. “Start with a classic?”

Betty grins. The holiday movie is a favorite of both Betty and Jughead’s, but Archie never wants to watch it. Two years ago Betty had suggested the title, only for Archie to bow his head and explain that he hates _A Christmas Story_ . “Why?” Jughead had asked, ready to launch into a rant defending the seminal holiday tale. That’s when Archie explained he hated the film because his tongue had actually gotten stuck to a pole when he was a child and the movie brought back his worst winter memories. Betty and Jughead had laughed so hard that to this day it’s still one of the only times Betty has ever seen Jughead cry.

Betty laughs, remembering that day. “I’m so down,” she says, reaching for some popcorn and watching Jughead get up to pop the DVD into the player. She breathes in deep as she stares unabashedly at him from behind. 

“Want a drink?” Jughead asks as he stands up again, the opening credits beginning to play.

“Maybe just one,” Betty says. Neither of them drink as often as Archie and Veronica do, but it feels wrong not to pop open any of the twelve beers waiting for them in the fridge.

Jughead returns with two beers and they sip, immediately falling into a routine of laughing and making snarky jokes as the movie’s opening scenes play.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Betty’s phone buzzes loudly from its perch on the coffee table. “Maybe this is Veronica,” Betty says, reaching for it. “Oh god,” she says after scanning the text.

Betty reaches for the remote and pauses the movie as Jughead looks over at her in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“Veronica says the heat in our apartment isn’t working,” Betty explains with a groan. She shivers involuntarily, remembering that the weather forecast for the next few days spells nothing but below-freezing temperatures.

“Let’s give them a call?” Jughead suggests gently, scanning her anxious face with a worried look on his own.

Betty nods, immediately dialing Veronica, who picks up on the first ring. “Hey, B,” Veronica says, sadness evident in her voice.

“The heat isn’t working?” Betty asks, cutting to the chase with panic in her voice.

“Don’t worry, B,” Veronica says quickly. “I already called the super and he should be here sometime tonight.”

Betty groans loudly. “Can we really count on the super, V? He has been nothing but unreliable since we moved in. Maybe I should come over and try to tinker with it.”

“No!” Veronica says quickly. She hears Archie say something inaudible in the background and then Veronica adds, “The snow is really starting to pick up, Betty. The subways are delayed! Just stay inside where you’re warm and let us deal with this. We’ll take a car to you after the super leaves.”

Jughead notices Betty’s free hand curl into a fist and grabs the phone gently from her, putting it on speaker. “Veronica, I have a car,” he says. “I can drive us over if the subways are delayed so Betty can take a look.” He glances again at Betty’s curled fists. “It might make her feel more at ease.”

“No, Betty has to stay there,” Veronica insists, her voice firm and passionate. “You two enjoy movie night until we can get to you. Betty, you just finished your grad school finals! You deserve a fun, uninterrupted night after your first semester.”

Betty relaxes her hands a bit, nodding. “True,” she says quietly. 

Jughead turns to look at Betty. “While I agree you’re probably more qualified than even the super, Veronica may have a point about relaxing,” Jughead says. The careful way he studies her face, as if he can see right through her, makes Betty tremble. 

She takes the phone back, makes Veronica promise to call her with any updates, and then hangs up.

“You okay?” Jughead asks, still carefully studying her.  
  
Betty nods, swallowing hard. She settles back against the couch cushions, daring herself to nudge a centimeter closer to Jughead. In her overthinking mind, that centimeter feels like a mile. “Let’s continue the movie,” she says, confidence returning to her voice.

Jughead claps his hands together and grabs the remote. “That’s the Christmas spirit, Betts.” He reaches for a cookie from the coffee table and hands it to Betty, who happily accepts the offer. 

“The Christmas spirit includes gross amounts of food?” She pops the cookie in her mouth, smirking at Jughead.

“Now you’re getting it,” Jughead says, turning to flash Betty one of those smiles that makes her weak in the knees. “Gross amounts of food and nostalgia.” He nudges his head toward the television screen.

“Touché,” Betty smiles.

As they settle into the movie, Betty relaxes and glances over at Jughead. _It’s a really good sign he wanted me to stay. Right?_

\---

As the credits roll on _A Christmas Story_ , Betty and Jughead watch with lazily content looks on their faces. Jughead’s arm is slung across the couch above Betty’s head and she’s leaning subconsciously in Jughead’s direction. 

Jughead looks over at Betty, meeting her eyes. “Such a good movie,” he says.

A genuine smile covers Betty’s face as she blinks out of her glazed-over childhood movie trance. “The perfect Christmas story,” she agrees.

Jughead gets to his feet. “Bathroom break?”

“Go for it,” Betty says, stretching as she carefully removes herself from her comfy position. She feels a tingle in her stomach at how close they’d ended up during the movie. She leans forward to finish off her beer. _I need all the courage I can get._

Jughead pauses at the kitchen window on his way back from the bathroom, mesmerized by the snow. It’s coming down in diagonal sheets now. He peers forward, realizing he can barely see the building across the street through the thick flakes. He looks over at Betty, rifling through his DVD options on the couch. Not wanting to worry her, he says nothing about the snow as he rejoins her.

“What’s next?” he asks.

Betty frowns at the stack of DVDs, but grins when she catches a glimpse of _The Holiday_ peeking through. 

She pulls it out, turning to give Jughead an impressed look. “Does Jughead Jones own much-revered Christmas rom-com _The Holiday_?” Betty asks.

Jughead shakes his head. “Okay, so...this doesn’t leave this apartment.” 

Betty grins, nodding. “Okay, agreed.”

“I...know this is one of your favorite Christmas movies,” he admits. Betty can’t look away from the intensity of his gaze. “I was at Target a month ago and saw this was on sale,” he continues. “I couldn’t help but grab it, thinking it might come in handy one day.”

Betty gulps, lost in the endless blue of his eyes. She recognizes something in his gaze that she’s never seen before. She can’t look away. _Is this the moment?_ Jughead looks like he’s about to say something when Betty’s phone rings loudly. They both spring back from each other like shrapnel.

Betty hastily grabs her phone. “Veronica? Are you...on your way?”

Jughead rubs the back of his neck, blushing as he watches Betty’s conversation closely. 

“No, B,” Veronica says, her voice suspiciously gentle. “The super came by and looked at it, but he said he needs to call for parts or something.” 

Archie yells something inaudible in the background yet again. Betty rolls her eyes. “You know, Archie, you might want to come closer to the phone at a time like this!” she yells and Jughead laughs. 

Betty puts her phone on speaker and settles back down next to Jughead on the couch. “Veronica?” Betty says.

“Sorry, B. So, to make a long story short, they can’t fix the heat tonight and it’s super duper cold in here, so I’m just gonna head over to Archie’s for the night.”

Jughead and Betty both groan, rolling their eyes. “So you’re not even coming to movie night?” Jughead says. “Betty made so many snacks.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry! But we’ll meet you at Pop’s in the morning for our usual breakfast gift exchange. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Veronica gushes.

Betty shakes her head. “Aren’t you forgetting one thing, Veronica? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

Veronica laughs. “Are you kidding, Betty? Just stay at Jughead’s! You’re warm and safe.”

Jughead tries his hardest not to make eye contact with Betty, suddenly becoming very interested in a spot on the wall behind her head. Betty looks nervously in his direction. 

“We’ll see you in the morning! Get some sleep, my loves!” Veronica is now chirping from the phone. She hangs up before Betty can protest, leaving her to immediately panic, all romantic thoughts flying out the window as her mind kicks it into overdrive. _What am I supposed to do? Maybe I should go home in case the super gets there early in the morning, or in case I can figure out how to fix it myself…_

“Stay here,” Jughead says quickly, interrupting Betty’s thoughts, and she looks up, hope she’s never had before in her eyes. _Did he sound eager?_

“I don’t want to put you out,” Betty says quietly. “It’s a small apartment.”

“Betty, it’s cold outside,” Jughead says, and they both laugh aloud when they realize what he’s said.

Betty gives him a mockingly challenging look. “Really, Jones?”

Jughead laughs, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Betty,” he tries again. “It’s legitimately cold outside.”

They both burst out laughing again, their eyes meeting and bringing Betty back to the moment right before Veronica had called. What maybe would have happened if she hadn’t called…

Jughead is pulling up the weather app on his phone, turning it toward Betty. “Legitimately 15 degrees out!” he’s saying, an indignant look on his face that Betty finds adorable. She pretends to look at his phone screen but her mind is already made up. She gazes at Jughead and he finally takes a breath to look at her, pausing at the heated look in her eyes. 

“Okay,” Betty says quietly. “I’ll stay.” She pauses as they stare at each other. “It is legitimately cold outside,” she adds, breaking the tension as they both laugh. 

“Good,” Jughead says, gulping.

“Now, you promised me Jude Law,” Betty says, smiling as she nudges her head in the direction of the TV.

Jughead quickly rises to his feet, pushing _The Holiday_ into the DVD player and grabbing a blanket from his room. He returns to the couch, draping the blanket over both their legs as he sits back down beside Betty. She blushes, tingling with anticipation as she moves closer to Jughead to properly share the blanket.

As the movie begins, Jughead turns to Betty and says, “Can you please explain to me why this trope works?”

Betty smirks. “So you admit the trope works?”

Jughead nods enthusiastically. “I should hate it, but I totally don’t. You’ve gotten me hooked on a rom com. Now explain why.” 

A devious look crosses Betty’s face and she turns her body toward him. Soon, they’re lost in conversation, the Christmastime problems of Jack Black and Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz gradually fading into mere background noise. 

Eventually, Betty moves closer to Jughead on the couch subconsciously. A few minutes later, Jughead notices she’s shivering and instinctively wraps his arm around her. 

Somehow, over the hour they’ve been “watching” _The Holiday_ , they’ve gotten so close that he doesn’t even have to move to nestle her into his side. Betty nuzzles herself into his warmth and, daringly, meets his eyes. 

Feeling sudden even when it’s the furthest thing from it, Betty and Jughead find themselves so close their lips are almost touching.

“Hey,” Jughead whispers.

“Hey.” Betty’s throat feels dry, her tongue suddenly sandpaper.

“So, this is new,” Jughead says, breaking the tension as they both giggle.

Betty’s stomach tingles as she feels his breath on her neck.

“Is it new?” she asks, almost involuntarily. It’s like she’s reached her capacity to worry about Jughead. It’s cold and they’re stuck inside and it’s been years and she’s just so, so tired of hiding how she feels.

Jughead looks impressed, happy, at her words. “I don’t think so,” he whispers, leaning the half-inch forward to close the gap between them. 

Betty’s eyes float closed just as Jughead’s lips touch hers. It’s everything they said it’d be: fireworks and stars and the indescribable feeling of coming home all at once. She reaches up to grab his face, responding eagerly as Jughead deepens the kiss, never wanting this moment to end. 

Jughead finally pulls back, his arms still gripping her as he takes a breath. “I’ve wanted to do that for...so long,” Jughead finally says, squeezing her shoulders.

Betty closes her eyes, a feeling of utter relief washing over her at his words. “For years,” she whispers.

“Basically since we met.”

“Yeah,” Betty says. 

They both laugh, shaking their heads at their own stupidity. At the time they’d wasted. In defiance, Betty reaches for Jughead, practically pouncing on him as she devours his lips, making up for lost time with each kiss.

When the credits roll on the movie, Betty and Jughead are half-clothed, Jughead trailing kisses down her neck as she whispers in his ear, all the things she always wanted to say coming out in bursts. Jughead murmurs into her neck, sucking and biting and kissing as Betty moans aloud. 

She pulls back from him and notices the TV screen. She giggles and Jughead finally pulls himself away from Betty and laughs with her when he takes in the half-eaten snacks and long-forgotten movie. 

“Want to take this to your room? Maybe, we can talk...too?” Betty asks, blushing. 

Jughead nods, kissing her cheek and getting up to deal with the TV.

 _Cameron Diaz would be proud,_ Betty thinks as she watches Jughead turn the TV off and grab Betty’s hand to whisk her away to his room.

\---

In bed, Jughead strokes Betty’s arm as he confesses he hadn’t looked at another girl since they’d met. That he’d tossed and turned for weeks during the couple of brief flings she’d had that first summer. 

Betty has her hands fisted in his hair when she tells him she can barely remember those flings. It hadn’t felt right with them. To be honest, it hadn’t felt right with anyone ever again, since that first summer. That’s why there hadn’t been anyone since.

They laugh and curse and wrestle and endlessly kiss about the time they’d lost. Around 2 AM, Jughead dares to let his hand trail up Betty’s legs, watching her quiver and pant as he pauses at her entrance. 

“Let me finally show you how I feel,” he whispers against her bare thigh, pressing a kiss to her knee. 

Betty shudders. “Please,” she whispers, gripping his light blue sheets. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

As his tongue swipes across her slit and she cries out, Betty catches a glimpse out the window of glittering snow in the moonlight. 

\---  


Betty’s up early. 

It’s not one of those times where something amazing happens and you wake up having forgotten. No. She wakes up exhilarated, still warm from the memory of the night before, with Jughead’s arms wrapped tightly around her. 

She can see just out his bedroom window. The snow has stopped. All feels quiet and blanketed in powdery, untouched whiteness. 

She suddenly needs Jughead to see it, and caresses his cheek. He stirs, tightening his grip around Betty and whispering, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” she whispers. He leans up and kisses her softly and she inwardly tingles with the simplicity of it. 

“So, I’m glad we finally got this out of the way last night,” Jughead whispers, gesturing toward their naked bodies. 

Betty giggles and blushes. “It needed to be done.”

Jughead kisses her, long and slow. When he pulls back, Betty is shooting him a determined look. “What?” he asks, confused.

“Something else needs to be done, and you’re not gonna like it.” 

He remains confused but then it dawns on him. “You want to beat the super to the apartment and fix the heat yourself, don’t you?”

Betty looks surprised. “Wow, I didn’t think you actually knew me that well.” This time it’s Betty grabbing Jughead for the long kiss.

\---

Betty and Jughead arrive hand in hand at Betty and Veronica’s apartment an hour later, fully armed with an extra toolbox from Jughead’s apartment and their gifts so they can head straight to meet Archie and Veronica at Pop’s when they’re done. 

Jughead teases Betty as she tries to unlock the front door, peppering her cheek with kisses and making it nearly impossible for her to wedge the key in the lock correctly. “Honestly, Jughead, are we ever gonna make it to Pop’s at this rate?” she laughs, finally swinging the door open.

Instead of the drafty, empty apartment they expect, Betty and Jughead tumble in kissing and are stopped in their tracks by the sight of Archie and Veronica, sitting patiently at the kitchen table with amused looks on their faces.

The apartment isn’t cold. In fact, Betty thinks it might feel warmer than usual. She and Jughead pull apart, both staring at Archie and Veronica with utter shock on their faces.

“Well, I see our plan worked,” Veronica says, finally breaking the silence.

Betty’s mouth drops open. Veronica laughs, standing up. “Get your coat on, Archie,” she says. “It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s go to Pop’s to exchange gifts like we were planning and we’ll explain everything.” 

Neither Betty nor Jughead say a word to their friends until the four of them are seated around their usual booth at Pop’s, though Jughead clasps Betty’s hand tightly as they follow behind Archie and Veronica, walking arm in arm as usual. 

When Jughead and Betty have both finally downed some coffee and their breakfast orders have been placed, Betty speaks. “So...the heat was never broken?”

Veronica claps her hands together. “What was that nickname Jughead always used to call you? Nancy Drew?”

Jughead blushes as Betty gives him a look of bewilderment and confusion. “You called me what?”

“Oh, right, that was the time he got really drunk in Archie’s apartment and listed all the reasons he loves Betty,” Veronica says. 

“Seriously, Veronica? We’re spilling secrets now, are we?” Jughead asks, slapping his hand across his face in embarrassment.

“The point is,” Archie says, shooting Veronica a challenging look. “This has gone on long enough. We could see that you two were hopelessly in love with each other, and we just needed to find a way to get you two alone together for long enough to just admit it.” 

“And it worked, didn’t it?” Veronica says, pointing at their intertwined hands on the table. 

Betty and Jughead both blush. “Yeah,” Betty says, smiling at Jughead. “It did.”

Veronica claps her hands together excitedly. “Well then, friends, there is nothing left to do but exchange gifts.”

Betty practically cries when she opens the first-edition, signed copy of _Beloved_ Jughead bought her. A perfect match for the typewriter she’d splurged on for him, which he hasn’t been able to keep his hands off since he unwrapped it.

“This book was going to be my last ditch effort to win your affections,” Jughead admits.

“Same with your typewriter,” Betty says bashfully, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss.

“This is why we really did it,” Veronica says as she watches Betty and Jughead gaze at each other. “We just didn’t want you guys to miss any more Christmases together.”

Jughead looks up, smiling. “I think we can toast to that.”

Four milkshake glasses clink, Jughead pulls Betty in closer to his side, and outside, the snow begins to fall again, as if to say _Merry Christmas._


End file.
